Ponderings
by Kika1
Summary: Yuki reflects on a habit he has in regard to Shuichi.


AUTHOR'S NOTE: Just a little Gravitation drabble from Yuki's POV. Reviews are, as always, appreciated. Hope you enjoy it :-)

He didn't quite remember what had been going through his mind the first time he had gone. But then again, very few of his actions in regard to the singer seemed to pass anywhere near his brain to begin with. He really didn't even remember _when_ he had started his little ritual, but it seemed that once it had begun, it was not something easily stopped.

If he took a step back and tried to look at his situation from a neutral standpoint, it seemed obvious why he did it. They did live together, after all. And while at the moment he couldn't recall a single occurrence of him actually using the word, for all intents and purposes, he was his boyfriend. Therefore, it seemed only natural that he would go to all of Shuichi's concerts.

Okay, well maybe 'natural' was being a bit generous. Especially when he dressed in black and made a point of sitting in the very last row every time, so he could see Shuichi but the singer could most definitely _not_ see him. And especially when he went to _every_ concert, whether it was half an hour away or on a whole other continent.

Despite the fact that Yuki made sure that Shuichi never actually saw him at the concerts, he knew that his little secret had been found out some time ago. While the writer smoked, and often, his clothes usually didn't smell _that_ smoky – and sweaty – when Shuichi threw them in the wash (not that he did laundry by his own free will, mind you, but if the boy insisted on living with him he was going to do _something_ to earn his keep). That would have made most boyfriends suspicious – was he going out to clubs? Flirting, or worse, with other people? But not Shuichi – no, he would have noticed that it was only on days following concerts that his clothes reeked of smoke and sweat and crowded places that Yuki would normally avoid at all costs. Despite all appearances (and despite all the times Yuki accused him of possessing such a trait), Shuichi was not stupid. He knew what Yuki did; he had to. Which led to Yuki's next question.

Why did the brat never ask him why he came? He knew Shuichi had to wonder. Hell, he wondered himself. Perhaps the singer valued his life (or Yuki's bed) too much to question something that he _knew_ would piss him off. Or maybe. . . maybe it was just because Shuichi liked knowing that he was there, even if he couldn't _see_ him, and didn't want that to stop.

The thought was enough to give Yuki pause, a slight hitch on the intake of smoke from the cigarette he was currently working on. He immediately berated himself for his reaction. The kid was rubbing off on him, with all his stupid sentimentality. Yeah, maybe it was nice to have someone around the house, despite the fact that he could be rather annoying and often prevented him from getting any work done. In any case, he shouldn't react so strongly to the thought of Shuichi appreciating something from him. Even if it was nice, being wanted, even needed. . . but no. That wasn't something to dwell on. Thoughts like that led to dangerous places, like commitment and dedication and a million other things that he was perhaps willing to give but not give voice to.

Yuki turned his thoughts back to the present and refocused his eyes on the stage. There was Shuichi, in all his skintight-leather glory, moving in a positively sinful way against his mike stand as he sang. His outfit tonight was most definitely not designed with comfort in mind, as it seemed to be made entirely of leather straps and silver buckles – but not a single member of the screaming crowd seemed to be complaining about his choice of wardrobe.

Yuki supposed he should be jealous and angry that Shuichi dressed in such a way for millions to see, but he could not manage to summon up an ounce of envy. After all, they onlyhad glimpses and dreams, while he had the knowledge that Shuichi was coming home to _him_ – and perhaps that knowledge was a bit more comforting to him that it should have been.

Yuki scowled and shifted uncomfortably as Shuichi's movements onstage had their inevitable effect. This was most definitely _not_ the reason he came out to these concerts, he decided firmly. After all, why would he need to come to a concert and embarrass himself in public (not that he would _ever_ get to the point of embarrassing himself) when Shuichi always came home from these concerts brimming with energy and adrenaline from his musical high, ready and willing to do whatever he asked? No, this was most definitely _not_ the reason. . . although it might have been a not entirely undesired side-effect.

So if that wasn't the reason, what was? Yuki sighed, annoyed that no matter how hard he tried to steer his mind in other directions, it always ended up here. It didn't matter now anyway; the concert was ending and he had to focus on getting home instead of on inconsequential philosophical ponderings.

Yuki left during the last song, as was his habit, and shot his car out of the parking lot ahead of the traffic that was sure to ensue when the concert let out. When he got home, he took a shower to rinse away the smell of the hundreds of bodies that had pressed into the arena that seemed to cling to him like cheap cologne, then climbed into bed. He was just about to drift off to sleep when he heard the front door squeak open – something _had_ to be done about those hinges.

Yuki could practically hear the boy bouncing down the hallway as he neared the bedroom door.

"Yuuuuuki!" Shuichi called, prancing through the door. "Are you awake?"

"I am _now_," Yuki growled, complete with accompanying glare. Shuichi took no notice of the warning in his voice as he stripped with no regard for modesty while talking about the concert.

". . .and I sung that new song for the first time live, and the audience loved it! The crowd was great all around; they knew every word to every song as well as I do!" Yuki's lips twitched in amusement. No matter how confident Shuichi acted, he would always still be in awe of his own success. His eyes were alight with that awe, and his voice filled with the excitement of yet another triumph for Bad Luck.

_Perhaps this is why I go_, Yuki mused. So that he didn't just sit here and listen to Shuichi's excitement; he was a part of it. He didn't just know why Shuichi was happy because of him _telling_ Yuki; he knew because he was _there_. He wasn't just another spectator of the blissful light in those eyes; he was a _part_ of it. And that, though it was yet another thing he would never admit, was something he was not willing to give up.

Just like he would not give up Shuichi's post-concert euphoria, especially when that excitement was channeled into _other_ venues. Venues that, while he enjoyed Bad Luck's music just fine, captured his interest much faster than any music could ever do.


End file.
